


Stripped

by rizahawkaye



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-09 23:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10424547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizahawkaye/pseuds/rizahawkaye
Summary: Naraku isn't dead when Miroku sleeps.





	

He’s standing in darkness and his hands are tingling and he can’t find her. He’s grasping at the air around him but there’s nothing near and his hands start to burn and he’s screaming. His throat is welling up with saliva but it’s drying out and his screams become hoarse. He can hear something, but he can’t tell where it’s coming from because it’s gone, right? The void is gone and he was there when Naraku fell and his life was handed to him by a woman he so desperately wants to find but cannot.

“Sango,” he coughs. His voice cracks and his hands are numb now. His eyes begin to well up with hot tears and his knees hit the grass beneath him. “Sango,” he repeats. He’s sobbing now and is filled with fear because maybe she’s dead. Maybe he was wrong and maybe Naraku’s fall was a dream and she’s gone and that’s why he’s so lost in the dark. That’s why he feels as though his heart has been dug out from between his ribs - little strips of muscles peeled like some sort of ripe fruit. Little pieces of his world being pulled out of his chest the way vegetables are pulled from a field.

His whole body is on fire now and there’s sweat forming in every fold of his body, on every surface. That sound is louder, heavier and seems close. He braces himself for something. “Sango, please stay away,” he breathes into the black air. He’s not afraid, he realizes. Not for himself, no. “Sango,” he says it again, maybe because he wants to etch that name into his soul. Because no matter where he goes he wants to carry that name with him. Into the next life, into another body.

Light brighter than the sun explodes from his palms. His hands are no longer numb but they feel as though he’s dipped them in flames. He can see his surroundings through the thick film of tears over his eyes. He’s looking quickly, he’s making sure she’s not near. He can hear Naraku’s laugh echoing through his ears but he doesn’t care. Naraku hasn’t won if he hasn’t got her. He hasn’t won, he hasn’t won, hasn’t won.

He can see that he’s in a clearing now. His palms are pulling the very earth into them and he feels himself fill up with the sorrow, the joy, the death, and life of those who’ve been buried below where he kneels. He’s overwhelmed by them.

"Miroku,” he heard her voice and he’s up.

“Sango,” he yells, but the wind is too loud. He couldn’t even hear himself.

“Take me with you,” she replies. He can’t see her but it’s like she’s talking directly into his mind. It’s like he’s hearing her thoughts, like they’re one person.

“No,” he says, firm. He tries pulling his palms together to stop the light, stop the sound. It doesn’t work. “Where are you?”

“I’m all around you.” He sees her then. She’s standing directly in front of him. She’s dressed in her slayer garb and her hair is flying wildly in his wind. He reaches out to her but stops as she begins moving toward him.

"Stop,” he says, becoming frantic. “Stop!” She doesn’t stop and he trips over himself trying to back away. He pushes his palms against the earth and it hurts but he can’t stop because he can’t take her in. He can’t, he cannot.

This is worse than death to him. This is his greatest nightmare.

She’s on him then. She sits in his lap, she pulls his palms off the grass with a strength he doesn’t know. She places those palms against her chest and sighs as she’s sucked in. Slowly her body begins to fold in on itself. Painfully slow. Miroku pulls himself forward and leans his head against her shoulder, placing his face into the side of her neck. “Sango,” he sobs. 

* * *

 

“Miroku,” she whispers into his ear. She sounds scared, worried. “Miroku.” He opens his eyes and he’s looking into hers and he’s home and he’s comfortable and he’s warm and safe and she’s safe. He lifts his hands and his palms are his palms and there is no void. There is no wind. He takes her face between his clean hands and pulls her to him. She kisses him softly, gently. Her lips on his are the patches she’s formed on his soul. His heart.

“You had another nightmare, didn’t you?” She breathes onto his face. He keeps his hands on her as she wipes his tears away.

“Yes,” he says. “But I’m okay now.” He pulls her to him again and this time when she kisses him softly and gently he kisses her hard. He moves a hand along her waist and grasps her tightly there. She sighs against him. He pulls away.

“Sleep now,” she commands. “You’re okay.”

"You’re okay,” he corrects her. “You’re okay.”


End file.
